The Devil Held Me Close
by Oceans in Hand
Summary: So, why did she let this guy into her apartment again? Dean/Chloe PWP, possible spoilers for Spn s3.


**The Devil Held Me Close (And He Listened to My Troubles)**

Dean's fresh out of the hole, still steaming and reeking of sulfur, and there's a blonde chick twenty feet away…with a camera. What the—on earth.

He spits something from his mouth—it's boiling and slimy and probably from a demon somewhere missing a chunk—and bares bloody teeth. "Who the—_fuck_ are you?"

The young woman peeks at him from behind the camera like it's a shield. "Um. Yeah, dude? Right back at you."

Dean's snarling, creeping forward before he can think. His eyes are stinging and—shit. Can't let it happen, can't let it happen, can't let it happen.

She's talking again. "I mean, I came out here looking for frat boys knocking grave stones, not…whatever you are."

Blinking black from his eyes, Dean forces his body to loosen up and scrubs at his face.

"…you got a shower?" He asks, voice rough.

She cocks her head curiously. "You got a name?"

:::::::::

So, why did she let this guy into her apartment again?

There's something really, really off about him. Off like, she hasn't taken her thumb off of Clark's speed-dial number off. Chloe can't quite figure out what it is—something in the way he moves, restrained, suspicious, paranoid. Dangerous. Deadly. Or how his voice sounds like he hasn't spoken in years, how he takes a half-second too long to say anything, like he's remembering how to.

"You stink." She had told him when he got close enough to get an unfortunate whiff. Mr. Mysterious "Dean" smells like a geyser. "And I think you've got ash on your shoulders."

She offered her washing machine on a knee-jerk, say-something-to-break-the-awkward impulse, and Dean liked the idea. Chloe's tossing his jeans into the dryer when glass shatters in the bathroom, and she bursts through the door without thinking.

He looks up and she breaks a scream against her teeth, her grip on the sill whitening.

"Your eyes are black." She brilliantly points out. Her cell's in the laundry room.

Dean blinks, and it's gone. His eyes dart to the mirror, to the glittering shards stuck in his hand.

The utterly blank look on his face pisses her off. "Yeah, that's a _great_ way to thank me, Dean. Wreck my bathroom."

"It was an accident." He intones, bringing the injured hand close to his face and trying to pick out glass with blunt fingernails.

Chloe rolls her eyes. She pussyfoots around the mess and yanks the hand down to her. "Gimme." She says belatedly, and starts carefully prying the shards free, tossing them into the sink. When she's done, she looks up through her lashes and catches his eyes. Hazel, now.

"Keep a secret?" She asks lowly.

His eyes get the tiniest bit bigger when the skin heals itself beneath her glowing touch but, surprisingly, that's his only reaction.

"Thanks." Dean says when she finishes, flexing his fingers. He makes an aborted motion towards the wall. "Sorry about the mirror."

"Eh. Wasn't like it was the best medicine cabinet in the world anyway." She sighs, scratching beneath her bangs—and noticing for the first time that Dean is totally, and completely naked. Not a stitch of terry cloth on that…wet…muscular…hot…body.

Gulp.

"Ineedtoputyourpantsinthedryer." Chloe stammers, and zips away.

:::::::::

Dean is pulling his jeans up his hips, the denim still warm from the dryer, when he glimpses a flash of white leg in the other room. More stinging, but he rubs until it's gone.

Chloe comes into the living room a minute later, tucked away inside a fluffy, blue bathrobe, a toothbrush in hand and socked in apple-red.

"So, no hard feelings, but once you're dressed the door's right around there, okay?" She gestures with her Oral-B down the hall. "Nice meeting you and all that."

She turns too fast, jerky, and Dean sees more skin. He's moving before he can think, sneaking an arm around her waist and snatching her back against him.

He says into her ear, "I never said thank you." Slips one finger beneath the robe, stroking the soft cotton of the little tank-top beneath.

Chloe nearly drops her toothbrush. "Y-you did. In the bathroom." Hot, wet, naked—shut up.

His hand on her stomach is rough and huge, fingers splayed, close enough to hypersensitive skin to make her breathing deepen and slow.

"That was for my hand, remember?"

Oh god. Hand is moving— "Um." Chloe bits her lip as the pad of his thumb feels the underside of her breast.

:::::::::

Her starved and half-dead libido has grown a mind of its own in a last-ditch survival effort. That is the _only_ reason she's letting this stranger herd her towards her bedroom.

Jesus. It's been so long since Chloe's been so much as kissed, she's already hot and wanting when the robe's reassuring warmth is stolen from her shoulders. His weight on her pelvis, the catching slide of his tough, scarred hands moving up her sides, scratch of stubble at her throat—it's…embarrassing at how quickly she's sweat-shining and mewling, rubbing herself against him as best as she can.

"Easy." Dean's voice is gravel and stone and it makes her toes curl. He laughs, breathing damp heat onto her collarbone. "Been a while for you too, huh."

Chloe bits her lip as he tightens his grip. "You have no idea."

"Oh, I think I might."

He sits up and grabs her high on her thighs, dragging her back with him. Chloe takes his face in her hands and rubs her thumb beneath his eye, gasping as he begins to rock against her.

"God." She tries to bring his lips to hers—

And gets a mouthful of cheek. But Chloe can roll with the punches, and a lot of her lovers have had weird ticks. She licks a long stripe up and over his eye, enjoying a salty taste of forehead. Tiny nips down the side of his face, the delicious why he grinds especially hard when she digs a little with her teeth…

Ohfuckshitgood. Fingers inside—she didn't even see him move—"Shit, _Dean_."

She hears shuffling and looks down her body. Dean's palming himself with his free hand and pulling the crotch of her panties out of the way.

Chloe takes a shaking breath to tell him, _that doesn't work all that well you know _when she cuts herself off with a shocked moan.

"_Fuck!_" Dean goes still above her. "You…you weren't kidding…"

"It hasn't been like this since high school." She agrees unsteadily, petting his back.

The throbbing pain from his too-fast entrance abates. Chloe brushes a kiss against his eye (hazel), and he begins to move.

:::::::::

The sound of her front door closing wakes her at three a.m.. Chloe curls up in the hollow Dean's body left in her sheets, and falls asleep again. In the morning, she licks her lips and tastes blood and sulfur.

* * *

**Something quick :) I've recently gotten drawn into Dean/****Chloe...There's a surprising healthy fanbase o.0 Not complaining, of course.  
**

**-Oceans**


End file.
